If It Makes You Less Sad  A Matt and Mello Story
by LittleJeevas
Summary: Life as they know it. Yaoi, self-injury, angst MattxMello MelloxMatt
1. Chapter 1

If It MakesYou Less Sad.. A Matt and Mello story

Chapter one.

The boy lifted his head from the floor where he had been laying. Eyes foggy, muscles sore, and throat dry, the young nineteen year old boy sat up and looked around. Red hair dropped in front of his eyes. The room he sat in was small and cold. Tiles filled the walls. It was the bathroom he shared with an angel.

His thighs stung. The boy named Mail looked down to see burgundy staining the boxers he had been wearing. His hands went almost unnoticed as they too were coated with dried blood. He thought about the meaning of this. The razor resting near the tub had a layer covering the sharp edges. The tool had a menacing look to it.

Mail moved his feet across the cold tiles. He knew what he did. He knew why. He also knew that a certain angelic blonde would be home rather soon despite his lacking of a time check. Mihael couldn't find out. There would be hell to pay, and Mail was poor.

"Would he really kick my ass?" Mail thought about the consequences of Mihael finding out about his deadly addiction. It was his fault anyway. If the beautiful bastard wasn't away so damn often, maybe the boy's body wouldn't be covered in heart-wrenching scars. Scars that dated back six years.

The skinny red head scrambled to his feet and gazed in the mirror. His face was thin, his arms were muscular but not disgusting, just enough to comfort a certain blonde when he was angry. He could see his ribs sticking out of his pale luminescent skin, but not so much as to where people thought he was anorexic. Not that he went outside anyway. The boys emerald eyes looked upon the figure in the mirror. His tattered mind wondered why a man such as Mihael would ever want to touch someone of his stature. He didn't want that to change.

Opening the cupboard under the sink, Mail wrapped his bloody hand around a clean medicinal wrap. He dabbed his wounds clean with water, then coiled the cotton around his aching thighs. He grabbed his pants laying behind the door and the bloody razor and walked out of the bathroom. _It hurts to walk_. Mail thought. He should be use to the pain. Although with every new and reopened scar, it's as if the pain never registered with his mind in the first place. Like he never felt pain as bad as this.

The bright microwave clock on the kitchen counter read two-thirty seven in the morning. Mihael would be home soon. The boy looked through cabinets to find a few chocolate bars and a pen and paper. He set the paper on the table and began to write.

"_Dear Mihael, _

_I know you'll need this. Sleep tight._

_I love you._

_Mail."_

With that, he took the bars in his hand along with the note and headed for their bedroom. The tired, battered boy set the chocolate down on the blonde's side of the bed and arranged so that he would see the note before the chocolate. Mail hoped that he slept with him tonight, not on the couch. He was lonely.

The boy's eyes were growing heavy and he knew sleep would come soon. He moved the covers he had been sitting on and crawled beneath them. His head laid on the pillow and soon succumbed to deprived sleep. In his last conscious moments, Mail heard the door creek open. The angel was home. The boy fell asleep with a smile growing on his lips.

This boy standing in the doorway, also nineteen years old, was worn and broken. He could barely stand up. His blonde hair was in his face and sticking to his cheeks by sweat. The boy named Mihael stepped forward and fell on the couch. He rolled onto his back and sat up to take off his boots. His aching feet had been cooped up for over seventeen hours without rest.

He needed two things as of that moment. Those two things in particular were residing in the room not fifteen feet away from him. He needed his redhead and his chocolate. There was no way he was sleeping on the couch. _I fucking hate that fucking place. _Mihael thought. His feelings towards the mafia were influenced by the danger he put his innocent Mail in. As well as the time he sent away from him. He hated it so much. He hated it more then Near.

"Fucking Kira. Die already.." He raged out loud, being careful to not wake the sleeping body in the other room.

The boy walked to the bathroom and gazed into the mirror. His sore eyes looked upon a blood covered pale face. He dabbed it clean with a warm towel. _What the hell am I getting into? I have to beat Near.. But i cant do this much longer. _Thoughts loomed inside his aching brain all day. He never escaped the thunder cloud of inferiority that hung menacingly over his head twenty-four seven. _Near wont win. I'll die before that happens._

_"_Fucking mafia.." He hissed, continuing his thought out loud.

_Does defeating Near really mean that i have to use the mafia? No.. _Mihael's thoughts were never to be acted upon but they always lingered. He wanted so badly to leave that hell hole. But he couldn't. They'd kill him.

The sore boy threw the wet, bloody tissues into the toilet and flushed. He didn't bother looking on the side of the bath tub where Mail had forgotten to clean up some blood. The other boy would be very grateful of this in the morning.

Mihael wobbled out of the bathroom dragging his cold toes against the hard wood.

_I hope Mail is asleep, he needs it.. I need it._ He directed his body towards the semi-open door that lead to their room.

The boy swiftly slipped through the gap without moving the door. His eyes immediately found a sleeping boy sleeping soundly under their black covers. The lump of warmth rose and fell evenly with the sounds of in and exhales. The boy smiled. He then peeled off his leather pants and pulled on some flannel pants. He lost the vest and gently dove into bed next to Mail. His head was stopped from touching the pillow by a note and something hard.

He unfolded the paper that read Mihael and read it.

The boy looked at Mail and back at the note. He then directed his attention to the bars of chocolate residing in his pillow. Without hesitation, he ripped one bar open and devoured it in seconds. This had calmed him down by many levels. Though the rest he would save for morning.

Tossing the wrapper behind his back, the tired boy laid down. He laced his cold hand around the boy's waist next to him and pulled him closer. Mihael's chest was against Mail's warm back. This made him shiver and snuggle closer. He rested his head in the crook of the sleeping boy's neck and kissed his jaw.

"I love you too Mail." Mihael cooed into his willing ear. Apparently the warm breath was a surprise to young Mail because goosebumps arose upon his skin soon after the words were spoken. The blonde boy smiled and rested against him. He closed his eyes and placed his other hand on the pillow above Mail's head. He exhaled softly.

_I want this everyday.. Fucking mafi- _His thought was interrupted by a moving Mail against him. Mihael grinned and forgot his thought. He kissed the boy's neck once more then fell into a deserved sleep.

The boys slept, until a wretched nightmare yanked Mail from his blissful sleep..

**AN: This is going somewhere I promise. ^^ I just had to open with something related to the plot then ease into the heartwarming stuff. And I know I know, I hate the idea of Matt mutilating himself as much as the next person, but it is vital to the story. So stay with me :] **

**And didn't I say I had a new story in the works? I did. And this is it. :p Soo...**

**How fast I update depends on how many reviews I get. So reviewww! Reviews make Matt think better of himself :] **

**Cash**


	2. Chapter 2

If It Makes You Less Sad.. A Matt and Mello Story

**AN: Though I said the frequency of posts was determined on reviews, I am posting this. This is a better chapter then the former. Better plot really, this one is terribly written. So review if you want. But i was telling the truth when I said reviews make Matt feel better about himself. I got none, so read and see what happens. Onward and outward.**

Chapter two..

A sweat coated, redheaded boy sat in the cold room atop the warm bed. His breathing was heavy and erratic. The actions that coursed through his mind moments before were gone but they left a residue that was leeching down the sides of his subconscious. He felt as if he had just had a heart attack. The boy ran his hand through his damp hair, ruffling it a little.

A movement beside him drew his attention. Mail looked down at the sleeping blonde. With a sigh of relief, he smiled and fell back, letting his head hit the pillow. Facing the sleeping angel, he reached a warm hand to Mihael's calm face. His skin was smooth and soft as hell. Mail ran his fingers over the blonde's cheek for a while, occasionally brushing blonde hair out of the closed eyes. The silence in the room was broken when Mihael let a soft whimper escape his lips.

The redheaded boy stared at him in confusion until he gazed upon tired, blue eyes that were now open.

"You're awake, how come?" came from the previously sleeping boy's lips. The lights coming through the window from the nighted street below illuminated his beautiful face.

"I just woke up," Mail lied, covering up his nightmare. "No reason," he smiled after the words escaped his mouth. _Why do I lie? Maybe the truth will change him.._ Mihael drifted his hand to Mail's bare shoulder.

_Shit.. Shit. _Mihael's hand slid lower to the panicking redhead's cold side, causing his body to shiver. The traveling hand continued towards Mail's hip and a finger twirled circles into the pale skin. Mihael's eyes were locked with those of the redhead.

"Why are you sweating?" Mail knew he couldn't cover anything up that easily. As if it hadn't been obvious that his whole body was drenched in sweat not twenty minutes ago. Some dried a little, but the drops remained on his face.

"Im hot," he stated.

"I can fix that.." Mihael grinned as he fingered the elastic holding Mail's pants up. Almost letting the blonde boy rip his pants off, Mail grabbed the eager hand at his hip.

"What are you doing?" the blonde retorted. He didn't want sex, just Mail's comfortability could be enjoyable for both of them. "Arent you hot?"

"Yeah, but not that hot. I'll be okay."

"_Not that hot.. _What's that supposed to mean?" Those words stung the blonde. Was he really being rejected? "Do you not want me to see you?"

"No! Thats not it at all." Mihael couldn't find out about his scars. Not yet. But Mail knew what was coming. He cringed and wrinkled his face, bracing for the abuse he was expecting.

"What are you doing?" Mihael asked again, this time for different reason.

"Im refusing you. And I know you're going to hit me. I'm just preparing myself." These words were worse then the previous. Was Mail really scared of him? And what was this business about refusing him? A very confused blonde sat up, keeping his head down, looking at his lap.

"Im not going to hit you. Damn Mail, why would you think I would hit you?"

"When you don't get what you want, you take it out on me. But I don't care. I know you cant help yourself.. So I just accept it."

The blonde boy was silent. _Thank god, I got him away from my legs.. I'm sorry Mihael._

"I guess I can see that sleeping with you tonight was a bad idea. Uhm, I'll just sleep on the couch for the rest of the night." The redheaded boy tried to protest but was silenced by a pair of quivering lips on his own. Mihael was kissing him despite his current problem with him. Mail could do nothing but give in.

As suddenly as the kiss began, it ended and before Mail knew it, he saw a half naked blonde boy walking out of the room. Mail sat up and let out a squeak, trying to get him to stay.

_Why the hell do I have to fuck up so badly all the god damned time? Fuck. Mihael. All I fucking wanted was a nice, uninterrupted night with him. But no, my stupid ass mind won't let me have that. I just HAD to have that damned nightmare again. Fucking mafia.. _**(AN: Youll find out about it later. ^^) **_Fucking kill me now.._

The lonely boy stared at the open door leading to darkness for who knows how long. He hoped that it would bring Mihael back. But it didn't.

After an hour of effortless staring, he fell back to the pillow once again. Silent sobs escaped his lips as he felt his thigh. They stung. Mail cringed in pain as he pulled his legs to his chest. The clock on the bedside table read 4:52.

His head was heavy on the pillow, laying in a puddle of tears. He hated himself for doing this to Mihael. All he wanted now was to escape this world to the land of sleep, but he was not graced with this privilege. All night, he lay awake. Crying. Praying to anyone that the hopefully sleeping boy in the other room couldn't hear his erratic breathing and quick sobs.

Mail had been consumed so much by his deepening depression that he had almost not noticed the sun peeking through the tattered curtains. He sat up and looked out the window to see daylight. The time read 7:23. He got up and winced as his sore kegs straightened out when he stood.

He made his way to the door and slipped out of the room and into the living room where the angered blonde resided. He completely forgot about the state his face would be in after the three hours spent loathing himself.

Mail slowly walked to the couch side. There lay the most beautiful thing the redhead ever laid his eyes on. He carefully bent down and his knees touched the hard wood floor. He leaned down to only be centimeters from the sleeping boys face. Mail gently grasped the back of the blonde's head and placed a long kiss on his forehead. He felt tears roll down his cheeks as he pulled away.

Mail's mind was made up. He couldn't burden Mihael's life any longer with worry and anger. He must do this. He went back into the bedroom and reached into a bag unknown to Mihael and retrieved the same blood soaked razor that was used the night before. It pained him to hold it in his hands again, but it had to be done. _I need to get a grip. This cant go on forever. I hope he forgives me.._

He reached for a pad of paper on the table next to the bag and a pen, then the doomed and confused boy padded to the bathroom and closed the door which became locked. He tore his pants off as well as the bandages hiding his dreadful, unhealed scars. Shaking fingers put the toilet seat down, placed the paper on top and began to write.

_Mihael,_

_I can't stand to cause you pain anymore. Day after day, I've watched you grow older in a life that you hate, and I know that I am the one to make you loathe it so much. Your words to me everyday suggest so. The way you tell me how vile that I already know that I am. Up until last night, I've held onto myself the best that I could have. _

_If it makes you less sad, you meant the world to me. You are the smell before rain to me. You are the blood in my veins. You make the sun come out everyday. You're so fucking god damn beautiful. If it makes you less sad, I'll be out of your life forever._

_I'm fucking up your life and I can't live with myself for it anymore. My soul has already grown cold. My heart is harder then stone and I'm calling it quits. You can't really stop me. This is the best for you, I know it. I just know it. You need to live in happiness. I don't bring that._

_But please do one thing for me. Please forgive me. Forgive me for every pain I have caused you. And please, as time goes on, forget me. Forget I ever existed. _

_I love you, Mels. Please, be happy._

_Matty._

**AN: I know I switched up the names at the end. Oh well. Gotta problem, screw you. Haha. It was really hard writing that last part. Matt's story in this is pretty depressing, which you will find out soon. ^^ Stay tuned. :] the rest with be filled with almost mindless fuckery.**


	3. Chapter 3

Sorry I haven't updated this story in a while. A lot has been on my mind and I guess I never really got around to writing much of anything. I think I'll be updating a little more frequently, it depends on how school goes.

Anyway, I'm hoping this story goes somewhere because I really liked my original idea for it and I'd hate for it to go to waste.

Enough rambling. Listen to: **Wrapped in Piano Strings by Radical Face **and **Come Home by One Republic**

**Chapter three.**

~Matt P.O.V.~

I never did get to say goodbye. It's not like he wanted me in his life anyway. I was just a burden most days. Comic relief other days. I miss him.

My mental state was nothing more then unconsciousness. I felt as if I were completely numb. I saw nothing, felt nothing, heard nothing. I don't remember anything after falling to what I remember to be the bathroom floor after I ended my life. After that, everything went black. Im wondering if I'm dead. Did my 'Make Mello's Life Better' plan work? Did I rid him of me for good? I must be dead. I feel like I've been walking for days on a gravel road without shoes.

There was a faint pounding in my ear, barely noticeable. It started getting louder, and louder and the pace was sporadic and uneven. For a moment, it sounded like my heart beat. Like those times when you lie and your ear drums throb so loud that you think your heart might actually burst out of your chest. I couldn't really say it was to that level yet, but it was getting mighty close. But what am I saying? That of course is impossible. _I'm dead._

I turned my attention and looked down at my pale hands. They began growing a lighter shade of pink, almost as if there was pulsating blood pumping through them. Giving them life. I thought for a moment.. That maybe I _wasn't _dead. Maybe I was just that pathetic, not even being able to kill myself in the proper way...

No! _You're dead dammit!_ I told myself, almost trying.. Convincing my body to stop replenishing itself. My hands curled into fists and I kneeled onto the absent ground. I couldn't think straight. I didn't even know that I was able to think. I squeezed my eyes shut for what I thought were hours. When I reopened them, I was blinded. It felt as if my eyes had been cut wide open, letting any light possible into my retinas. They automatically closed tight once more.

I heard another sound, this time it sounded more like.. It was indescribable. It sounded almost like a voice. It was so melodic and smooth. Almost like.. Like an angel.

But, angels don't live in Hell.

I couldn't make out whose it was, but it was gentle. I wonder if this was simply to tease me. I wonder if this was merely one of the perks of 'offing yourself'. Letting you get a taste of what you can never have. That sounds about right.

They spoke softly. I could tell it was a man, though I couldn't understand what they were saying, but it was sincere. Apologetic.

The next second my eyes were ripped open again. I was burned with the bright as day light once more. I yelped in pain and I couldn't see a thing. I didn't know what was happening or where this damned light came from all of a sudden. Can't I just die in peace?

My eyes darted around at the vast open land that surrounded me. Nothing but pure, blinding light filled my gaze. But suddenly something jerked me violently out of my stare.

It was the angel again. The same, harmonious voice that I heard before. The only difference was that I knew who it belonged to. It was _my _angel.

_My Mello._

I dropped my head in realization. He wasn't my Mello anymore. I gave up that right when I put myself here. I fell to the ground, my hands raking through matted hair, trying to deduce why Mello would choose to haunt _me _when _I'm _dead.

Then I heard him again, almost sobbing. My mood suddenly changed at that sound. I wanted so badly to find him and just encircle him in my arms. It was torture hearing his broken cries, so vividly now. It was as if only a curtain divided us. I felt so close to him. It was tearing me apart knowing I wasn't, I couldn't take it. His voice was getting clearer and clearer. I could make out words now.

He was saying my name. He was telling me to come back. I scoffed.

_I did this for you, Mello. _I said out loud. _Be happy._ A dry sob ripped from my throat that I tried to silent. I couldn't break down in front of him.. No matter where he was.

His image appeared in my head. It was so clear, almost like I could touch him, which I wanted so badly. His eyes were boring into me with a pleading look, putting me in a trance almost. They were forlorn and longing. They matched mine. I felt myself whimper when I saw tears roll down his rosy cheeks and over his swollen lips. His lips started moving. He was telling me something.

_Matt, open your eyes. Open your eyes for me. _He said gently. My eyes are open. I thought to him.

_Please, try and open your eyes wider. Open your eyes and come home. _He asked, even gentler. _Come home._

I did as I was told, my eyes opened even wider then they were. The white light got brighter, then went out.

I felt something nail me in the gut. I coughed violently, feeling as if I has been holding my breath for years.

The next second, I knew I was awake.

... I was alive.

**AN: I am a currently working on the next chapter. Sorry this one was short and a little confusing. It was meant to be that way. When you're stuck in limbo, everything is right-side backwards. But if you didn't get it, Matt thought he killed himself and assumed that where he was would have been Hell.**

**Please review n_n**


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